By Tee Morris, Philippa Ballantine
Evildoers watch out! Retribution is handy, because of Britain's best-kept mystery agents!!
Certainly no strangers to ordinary occurrences, brokers Wellington Books and Eliza Braun are still shocked to watch a fellow passenger aboard Britain's most up-to-date hypersteam educate without notice vanish in a blinding bolt of lightning. They quickly become aware of this isn't the one such disappearance . . . with each one case going inexplicably unexamined through the Crown.
The destiny of britain is once more within the fingers of an creative archivist paired with a stunning, fearless woman of experience. And even though their foe be fiendishly shrewdpermanent, so then is Mr. Books . . . and pass over Braun nonetheless has a couple of valuable and strange units hidden underneath her petticoats.
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Extra resources for The Janus Affair (Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences, Book 2)
No rainforest with tropical butterflies, no palm trees or Californian redwoods, no leopards or iguanas or panda bears. 35 Just the bush. Iain wouldn’t move over Tailor’s Stitch until it was completely dark. He was right, of course: even in the dimmest light we risked our silhouettes being seen by anyone who happened to be looking in the right direction. But it was frustrating, sitting there waiting, every minute thinking, ‘OK, it’s dark enough now, let’s go’, then thinking, ‘Oh no, there’s still a streak of grey in the sky, right across the ranges, better wait a few more minutes’.
So the three of us slogged on. We kept climbing. I’d forgotten how much of war was like this. So much hard yakka, grunting up and down mountains, carrying weights that felt like every textbook I’d ever owned had been plonked in my backpack, and then some. Trying to remember that every bush, every tree, could contain death. ’ Ploughing on hour after hour, day after day sometimes, just so at the end of it you could kill someone or be killed. Well, we ploughed on, until by 9 am we were standing on the top of Tailor’s Stitch.
We were in a typical situation from this war, typical for us anyway, sitting around waiting, not having much to do, filling time in whatever boring mind-numbing ways we could. Fi and I cleaned up the campsite, then sat by the creek with our feet in the water, talking about nothing in particular. We didn’t say anything about the war. After last night I felt too guilty to want to discuss the war. Plus sometimes it was just all too scary. There was so much to be afraid of that I didn’t know where to start.
The Janus Affair (Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences, Book 2) by Tee Morris, Philippa Ballantine